Draco Malfoy and the Union of Souls
by The Man-Eating Dust Bunny
Summary: Draco keeps thinking about Harry Potter, and can’t figure out why. When he finds out he’s a veela, suddenly it all comes clear. H-D with mentions of R-Hr. Set 6th year after OotP.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: They're not mine, sadly. All belong to JKR. I promise I'll hose them down once I'm done with them!

Summary: Draco keeps thinking about Harry Potter, and can't figure out why. When he finds out he's a veela, suddenly it all comes clear. Set after OotP.

Warnings: **SLASH!** (yes, m/m content! Leave if it squicks you.), language, and, of course, sexual content.

Rating: R

A/N: This is my first Harry/Draco fic, though I read them all the time. It's veela!Draco just because I love seeing that all too much, and it's hard to find good ones. This chapter is mostly back-story, so it might be a bit short. I hope you enjoy this!

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"Oh, fuck…_fuck_, Draco! Yes! Harder! _Harder!_ Oh, _Merlin_, yes!" cried a hoarse voice. I slammed into whoever it was, my eyes shut tight, trying to avoid sensory overload. My climax was almost within my reach—

And I woke up. With a raging hard-on, I, Draco Malfoy, grumbled and rolled out of bed, getting up and stretching languidly before I crossed my bedroom in silence, went into my bathroom and relieved the pressure in my groin. With that done, I turned the taps on my enormous bathtub and strolled back into my bedroom to distract myself until the bath was ready.

Summer at Malfoy Manor was always a bit of a bore, but this one had been particularly dull thus far. _No Potter to torture, _I thought with a sigh. Well, that and no father to keep me amused with little lessons and projects.

Father being in Azkaban had been very hard on my poor mother, so I spent a good portion of my time distracting her. I could see that being with me was upsetting and consoling for her, both at once; she saw my father in my face, but the man behind those familiar gray eyes was so different…I knew I fascinated her with the variations.

Although I managed to keep her happy enough, I had a gut feeling that she wished, on some level, that I were a girl—someone she could gossip with and pamper without the situation becoming awkward. And because I wanted to see her happy, I made up a bit of a white lie and told her that I was gay. She had been so excited that I'm still amazed she didn't burst with joy on the spot.

That was when she started taking me shopping, until I had so many clothes I didn't know what to do with them. Mother spent huge quantities of money on the two of us, as if blowing the Malfoy fortune would make all of her problems just…go away.

At first, being a gay man was a game for me; I would stare at other men and comment on their clothing and their physical features to my mother, who would, of course, laugh and exclaim over how "adorable" I was. However, I soon found myself really _enjoying _this game of mine—even to the extent that on occasion I actually almost drooled over some of the men that we saw.

That was when I realized it: I was seventeen and _outrageously _gay.

When I wasn't keeping my mother amused, I was working on my figure. It became a habit of mine to take a long run in the evening before bed and to practice Quidditch for at least an hour a day. After all, no self-respecting gay man would _ever _let his figure go.

At night, after my run, I would shower and get into bed, where I would lay for at least an hour before sleeping, pondering what I could do to Potter once school began again. Little pranks and big plots took root in my mind; I made sure to write them down.

Just as I was settling into this routine, it all changed. I woke up on the thirty-first of July, went into my bathroom, and saw my reflection. Bile rose in my throat at the sight, and I threw my fist into the glass, splitting a few knuckles and shattering the mirror. As soon as I'd done that, my first concern was for the mirror—then I wondered why I'd acted out like that in the first place.

Later the same day, the anger returned full-force, and I yelled at my mother. She looked at me with surprise and hurt; I saw the tears in her eyes and immediately the anger faded, leaving me with guilt and a sense of wonder; why had I been so mad? I tried to comfort her, but she began to sob and told me to go to my room. So, being the good son, I obeyed. But as soon as I closed the doors behind me, the inexplicable anger rose once more, and I picked up the nearest object—a chair—and dashed it against the wall. Other things soon joined the chair in a pile of defunct objects that grew almost exponentially in the middle of my room, until I'd nearly destroyed the whole place.

I stood back and stared in shock at what I'd done and immediately began to clean the place up, calling in my house elf to repair the things I'd broken. (The elves at the Manor are quite adept at this; Father sometimes went into screaming rages and broke all the furniture in his study.) Once everything was back to normal, I sank into my favorite chair and put my head in my hands, fighting tears. The rest of the day was like that.

But today, thankfully, the anger and depression were gone, leaving behind only hope as I went back into my bathroom. The tub was full, so I turned the taps and shed my pajamas, slipping into the hot water with a sigh. I soaked for a bit, thinking to myself.

I hadn't been myself lately. Even as I recalled this, I remembered how, time and time again, I had boiled with rage and nearly destroyed all of my nice furniture. The depressed days, though, were far worse than the angry days. The melancholy feelings kept me feeling low, forcing me to remain in my room, for I could deal with nothing and nobody while I was so down. I hated it; at least I could express the anger with Quidditch or running—there was nothing I could do to stop the sadness.

As the summer began to wane, the rage and the depression attacked me less and less often. More and more frequently, I could just be myself.

On occasion, however, dreams like the one I'd just had pervaded my sleep, waking me with the pain of a horrendous erection. No amount of masturbation would rid me of these monsters, a fact that I careful did _not _mention to my mother. On the days when I couldn't make the hard-ons go away, I tried my best to avoid everyone.

Strangely enough, on the days preceding the one or two times when I'd been confined to my room due to an erection, mother always commented on how "well" I was looking.

All in all, what _had _begun as an excellent (although boring) summer had gone to shit. I couldn't wait for school to start again.

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A/N: So there you have it, folks. The beginning of a new adventure. Many thanks to my lovely, lovely beta, Herbie! 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello again, my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter, and I'm glad to see you back for more! Hope you like this one, too. Excuse shortness again. I have this story so planned out that I'm trying my best to stretch each plot point into a chapter…maybe I'll try to combine them in future chapters to increase length. Though, granted, that would cut down frequency of my posts…

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After what seemed far too long, summer was over and it was time for school to begin again. I said goodbye to my mother, who looked just about ready to burst into tears, at the station, giving her a hug and a kiss for each cheek, just the way father had always bid her goodbye. Well…minus the kiss on the lips. Despite being a Death Eater and having had an arranged marriage, my father loved my mother quite a lot. They cared for one another, that much was certain, though eventually I came to decide the love they held for one another had been created by my birth.

I waved goodbye as I boarded the Hogwarts Express, my body feeling like it was absolutely on fire. I had to see Potter. I had to. I'd been thinking about him all summer, and now I finally had my chance to piss him off again. I'd been looking forward to this for a _long _time.

I found Crabbe and Goyle in a compartment, and I sat in with them for a while until the train finally left the station, at which point in time I made my excuses to go find Potter.

I had to search quite a bit of the train before I figured out where the Weasel, Mudblood, and Potty were hiding. I opened the compartment door and stepped inside, inspecting the motley collection before me: Potter, Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, Loony Lovegood, the junior Weasel, and her newest boy-toy. I sneered down at them. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Gryffindor groupies. Hello, Mudblood. Didn't manage to tame that rats' nest on your head, I see." The Weasel's eyes burned as he glared at me, his cheeks starting to turn red. "And Potty. How lovely. Still not a Prefect. Poor, poor Potty. Nobody loves him." I smirked, folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the doorjamb.

The Weasel stood up and faced me. "Shut your gob, Malfoy. You can bloody well sod off," he said, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Oh, the big bad Weasel, what_ever_ am I going to do?" I replied, standing up straight again. I pointed at Potter, smirking still. "Watch yourself, Potty. You never know when you might get flushed." With that I left them, the Weasel sputtering and beet red. I headed back to my compartment, grinning to myself with satisfaction.

When I came back inside, Crabbe and Goyle asked why I was so happy, so I told them. And then, of course, as soon as I finished saying it, I felt…angry. Like I wanted to kill someone. Like I wanted to hit myself. I clenched my fists in my lap until my fingernails bit into my palms, making them bleed, my eyes shut tightly.

Slowly, the anger dissolved, leaving me empty. I was nearly crying as I tilted my head back, resting it against the wall. "Fucking Potter," I whispered harshly, my voice rough as I slowly unclenched my fists, showing the blood on my palms and under my nails. I slowly opened my eyes, wiping at them with my fingers, smearing blood onto my face that I thought was only tears. Pansy shook her head. "Draco, dear, come here," she said, pulling a handkerchief out of seemingly nowhere and leaving Blaise's lap to wipe at my face. That was when I realized I'd cut myself.

I blinked in a bit of surprise; I hadn't even felt the pain.

I took her handkerchief with a nod of thanks, wiping my hands off. I offered it back to her, but she shook her head, resuming her position in Blaise's lap. I sighed. "I'm turning into a bloody woman," I said, rubbing my eyes with my fingertips. "An _old _woman," I added. "It's like I'm having ruddy hot flashes!"

Everyone exchanged looks and burst out into fits of laughter. I groaned and leaned my head back against the wall again. Why were my friends so immature?

We spent the train ride catching up. When I let the cat out of the bag about my being gay, everyone just shrugged it off. Pansy even said, "I'm not surprised. You always did seem like a bit of a pouf." I blushed slightly, and talk turned elsewhere.

Finally the train arrived, and we disembarked, getting our trunks and taking the carriages back to the castle. I assumed my duties as Prefect, leading the way into the feast. Once everyone had taken a seat, I sat as well, ready to await the Sorting.

As usual, the Sorting Hat's song was long and boring. My friends and I poked fun at it the whole time, and then proceeded to comment on the new first years. My favorite was a new Gryffindor named Richard Graber. When we heard that one, we all snickered and I pronounced what everyone was thinking: "Dick Grabber." Which sent us all into fits of laughter that we tried extremely hard to contain.

After the Sorting was over, Dumbledore made his usual introductory speech, welcomed our newest DADA professor (saying that he hoped this one would last) and began the feast. We all ate like wolves, although I was careful of what I ate—didn't need to gain any extra weight, now did I?

When it came to dessert, I made myself a rather large pile of chocolate chip cookies, plowing through them quickly. Everyone stared. Blaise raised an eyebrow. "What's with the cookies, mate?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Taste good," I replied.

"Draco…do you remember how much you dislike chocolate?" asked Pansy. I blanched and pushed the rest of the plate away from me.

Upset after this incident, I needed something to channel my anger. My chance came when I was walking along behind Potter out of the Great Hall. There were enough people around that I knew I could get away with a bit of mischief, just as long as nobody saw.

My face perfectly innocent, I reached forward and hooked my foot around Potter's ankle, pulling up sharply and then releasing, watching with glee as, almost in slow motion, he flipped forward, seemed to fly for a moment, and then landed flat on his face, cracking one of the lenses in his glasses. I snickered and found my fellow Slytherins, winking at them. They all grinned back at me.

Satisfied now, I took care of my duties as Prefect and led the way to the dungeons before heading into the dormitory and changing out of my robes into more comfortable clothes. After a bit of a stretch, I went out, jogging through the hall and up out onto the castle grounds.

Under the moonlight, I ran towards the lake, making a few laps of it, watching as the giant squid lazed on the surface, seeming to bathe in the silvery evening light. The sight brought a rare smile to my face as I finished my last lap and headed back into the castle at a jog.

I traversed through the castle to the Prefects' bathroom, not really caring to share the sixth year boys' bathroom. In my experience, the boys in my year were slobs. In previous years I had hated having to bathe just because the bathroom was always such a pigsty. More often than not, after first year, I was careful to take whatever showers I could out in the changing rooms by the Quidditch pitch.

Once I reached the bathroom, I stripped and turned on the taps of one of the showers, waiting for the water to heat before stepping beneath the spray and letting it massage my muscles, relaxing them. I closed my eyes and let the hot water beat down upon me, images of Potter swimming through my head. I smirked as I relived my little trick upon him, and then set down to the business of getting clean.

Once I had washed thoroughly, I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and took a set of pajamas from a cupboard that had been empty last year. When I'd discovered how much more convenient it was to shower here, I'd begun to keep a small stock of clothes in the cabinet.

I took my dirty clothes with me as I padded through the halls in my bare feet, my hair curling slightly towards the ends as it dried. When I got back to the dorm, it was bustling with my yearmates getting their things in order. I smiled and put my dirty clothes in a bag I kept for such things before I crawled into bed, closed my curtains and my eyes, and fell asleep.

Much to my confusion, my ankle hurt when I woke in the morning.

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A/N: Oooh. Draco eating foods he doesn't like and having strange pains and mood swings…wonder what's going on, eh? ;) Please review, constructive criticism is muchly appreciated. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Once again we meet, my lovelies. A lot of this I end up writing in Latin class, to be quite honest with you. Latin and Spanish. But you didn't really need to know that. There's a parenthetical footnote in the middle of this chapter—go to the end to see the reference.

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In the morning, when my ankle hurt for seemingly no reason, I was grumpy. I gathered my things together and limped down to the prefects' bathrooms. I started a bath and dangled my foot in the hot water after stripping down, letting the heat penetrate into my ankle, soothing the pain away. Before long the bath was ready, and I slid silently into the water, my eyes rolling back slightly with relief. 

I sank beneath the water for a moment before surfacing and floating in the heat for a bit. Comforted now, I swam a lap or two of the giant tub and then settled down to bathe.

Once I was clean, I pulled the plug on the bath and got out, drying off. I dressed and gathered my things, going down to breakfast. I took my usual seat and grinned wickedly to myself as Potter limped into the Great Hall.

I concerned myself with breakfast instead of Potter, choosing—without thought—chocolate chip pancakes for my meal. I munched away happily as my friends waltzed in. Pansy shook her head when she saw what I was eating, but she made no comment, taking her seat next to her boyfriend.

As soon as I finished my pancakes, I turned my attention back to Potter, who was now strangely missing. Granger was still there, but Potter and the Weasel had disappeared. I shrugged and returned to conversation with my friends until I noticed my nemesis and his sidekick come back in, grinning like fools. I scowled. They looked a little tousled, and I wondered if they'd gone off for a snog until I saw the Weasel flirting with Granger. So he was still straight as an arrow. What a sham! Even _I _could admit that the Weasel had himself a nice arse.

I shifted in my seat and was distracted from watching the Dream Team by the arrival of the Owl Post. I was surprised to find that three owls dropped their burdens before me. There were two boxes, the larger having a note written on it, and a letter. I opened the letter first.

_Dear Draco,_

_My associates and I shall be holding an informal group meeting in two days' time. We would appreciate it greatly if you would be so kind as to join us. The enclosed owl feather will act as a portkey that evening. Please try not to lose it._

_Sincerely,_

_Your beloved uncle_

I snorted. Obviously the letter was from Rodolphus Lestrange, my mother's brother-in-law. He'd just broken out of prison, or so it seemed. Plus—it was his handwriting. I sighed and folded the letter back up, carefully tucking the feather back in the envelope with the epistle.

I reached for the larger of the two packages next, reading the note written hastily on the wrapping first.

_Saw this (footnote) and thought of you. One size fits all charm included. Give it to your sweetie. Love, Mum_

I smiled and opened the package, removing the t-shirt and grinning. That was something I'd only recently come to appreciate—the fact that my mum actually had a sense of humor.

After that, I picked up the smallest package and tore off the paper, revealing a palm-sized black box. I frowned slightly and opened it to find a set of chocolates inside. I bit my lip, suddenly feeling hungry again.

Just to be sure I was safe, I checked the box and the truffles themselves for hexes. When I found none present, I picked up one of the chocolates, scrutinizing it with my eyes. I didn't see anything physically wrong with the sweet treat, I closed my eyes and slowly bit into it, enjoying the rich taste of the chocolate. There was a hint of some other flavor that I couldn't trace, but it was certainly good.

I savored the truffle until it was gone, and when I opened my eyes, all of my friends were staring. I blinked. "What?"

"That looked like it was almost a religious experience," commented Blaise flatly.

I rolled my eyes and picked up another chocolate, popping it in my mouth. They really did taste good, but I couldn't figure out quite why. I kept on eating them until I'd cleaned out almost the whole box, leaving only a single chocolate to eat later.

That's when it happened. I groaned, gripping the edge of the table as I felt myself stiffening in my pants. _Oh, Merlin, _I thought, closing my eyes tightly as my head began to spin. Despite all of my care, the chocolates had been tampered with after all—filled with some kind of aphrodisiac. The erection I'd just developed _hurt_. I had a feeling that this one, like the ones before it, would be just as painful and stubborn as the others; that is to say it wouldn't go away. "Fuck," I growled, one hand dropping into my lap and caressing my cock through my pants.

Blaise screwed his eyes shut. "Aw! Draco! Don't do that at the table, _please_!" he cried.

Pansy giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand as Crabbe and Goyle looked on stupidly—as usual.

"Fine. Ex_cuse _me," I mumbled, standing, drawing my robes around me to cover my erection as I hurried out of the Great Hall. I glared at Potter and Weasley, who were grinning and laughing with each other, their attention directed at me. That's when I realized this was Potty's revenge on me for tripping him.

I grumbled to myself all the way down to the dormitory, where I collapsed on my bed, kicked off my pants, and began stroking my cock, my eyes closed as I concentrated on how nice my hand felt as I dragged it up and down my length.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I neared my climax and with a little bit more pressure I came, spilling my seed across my hand and my thighs, soiling part of my shirt as well. I grunted and sat up, but much to my dismay, my cock was still hard and I still ached as if I hadn't just gone through that whole process. I whimpered and reached for a handkerchief I kept on my bedside table, wiping myself clean before tugging on my pants again and digging through my trunk for my wall calendar. I found it and pulled it out, flipping through it until I came to this week. Much to my dismay, I found that I was due for my next ongoing erection tomorrow.

That was lovely. Then this bloody aphrodisiac had connected with whatever part of me that caused those horrendous hard-ons, and it seemed it was going to extend the period of time during which I was out of commission. This was going to be bloody miserable.

I lay in bed trying to wank myself into a coma until Blaise came in. I poked my head through the curtains. "Blaaise," I whined.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What."

"My bloody stiffy won't go away."

"What am I supposed to do about it?!" he exclaimed with exasperation, going to his trunk and pulling out some books.

"I don't know. But it _hurts_," I continued to whine.

He rolled his eyes. "Fix it yourself," he replied, walking back out.

I continued to pester Blaise about how much my erection hurt and how much I needed a shag for two and a half days. I ended up missing the "meeting" because I couldn't bear to leave the room.

For the whole time I was in agony, my mind dwelled on Potter, something in me yearning to claim that tight little arse…when I slept—fitfully, of course—Potter always seemed to be in my damned wet dreams. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and that only served to irritate me even more.

Just before lunch Blaise came in to check on me and see if I needed anything—more lube, for example. He was really fed up with the whole thing by now. "Draco?"

"Blaaise," I called, still whining. "It _hurts_. Make it _stop_!"

He made a noise of absolute disgust and threw the roll of parchment with my assignments on it at me. It missed, but I got the message. "_Fine_," he replied irritably. "Shag me. But you'd better be quick and shut up afterwards even if the thing doesn't go away. And you're using a fucking rubber. No choice on that."

I grinned. Blaise did swing both ways, after all. He'd come to that conclusion over the summer. Pansy wasn't irked at all—she found it rather amusing, and often asked and encouraged him to ask other men to "play" with them. I hurriedly dug in my drawer for some lube and a condom, pulling the rubber over my cock quickly and gesturing for Blaise to join me.

Obviously still resenting the fact that it had to happen between us for the first time this way, he stripped slowly and lay down on my bed. I lubed the both of us up and took a hold of his cock, stroking him gently as I readied him with two of my fingers. "Thanks for this," I said sincerely. He grunted in response, his eyes closed. I chuckled softly and shifted myself until my head came in contact with his ass.

I pushed in slowly with a groan of pleasure, my cock seeming to shout the Hallelujah Chorus from the top of its lungs as I did so. I kept stroking Blaise's cock as a favor to him as I pushed all the way in and pulled almost all the way out over and over, my hand beating in time with my hips. Repeat, repeat, repeat; my mind was on autopilot until I finally came with a jerk of my hips, my hand still going. Soon after, Blaise came, and he sighed softly, his cheeks flushed.

"Thanks," I panted, drawing out and getting out of bed, taking the condom off and carefully disposing of it. I found my wand and muttered a cleaning charm so that both Blaise and myself no longer bore any evidence of having just shagged.

It was such a relief to have my cock hanging limply! At last it was soft and not paining me. After two and a half days of agony, I was free. It had taken shagging my best friend to do it, but I was free. "Thank you _so _much, Blaise," I said. "I think I'd kiss you if it wouldn't weird you out." He waved away my thanks, pulling on his clothes again and combing his hair back to normal.

"Come on, Draco. Let's go down to lunch."

After we were both presentable again, we went down to the Great Hall, where I saw Potty and the Weasel actually looking _guilty. _ I growled to myself. The whole thing had been their fault, then. I would get back at them for this one.

* * *

The thing his mother sent him is a t-shirt that reads "PRIVATE PROPERTY." 

A/N: There you are, my lovelies. I hope you're intrigued. Or confused, even. Review please, I'd like to know if I'm doing anything wrong. Or if I'm doing things right.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: All this positivity! It really helps; you have no idea. And also…I didn't really mean for this to turn out as funny as it seems to be going. I guess I just have a good sense of humor, because every time I see a chance for a good joke, it slips right in. Very odd and different from the way I'm used to writing.

* * *

I could find no reasoning behind the fact that I'd thought so much about Potter. He invaded my daydreams and dominated my dreams at night, also daring to sneak into my daily thoughts. At every opportunity I was cruel to him, trying to get back at him for making me think about him so much. My abuse of him earned me a warning from Snape, and later, a warning from Dumbledore himself.

I tried to obey, but my mind drove me into further cruelty.

I plotted a grand, explosive revenge and waited for the right moment to execute it.

My chance came on the night of the Halloween Feast. Potter and his cronies seemed to be having a hell of a time, laughing and carrying on. I watched them like a hawk, waiting patiently for my chance to strike.

Potter excused himself, as did I. I followed him out of the Great Hall and down a corridor for a bit before I tapped him on his shoulder. He turned, and I threw my fist into his face, listening to the satisfying wet crunch as I broke his nose, his blood sullying my knuckles.

He cursed and brought his hands to his face before crashing his own fist into the side of my jaw. Pain exploded through my mouth and my head—something was warning me against this fight.

With the advantage now, Potter punched me solidly in the gut, my breath gushing out of me all at once. I bent double as I felt Potter hit me in the side; I couldn't fight back. I didn't know why, but something was inhibiting me from hurting him. I was left to take his beating, helpless as I fell to the floor.

His fists pummeled me endlessly, and I could do nothing to stop him. I knew that I was bruised and bleeding as I staggered to my feet once again, only to have fireworks explode through my head and watch as everything faded into black.

When I awoke, my head felt like it was twice its normal size and my mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton. I opened my eyes slowly, the hospital wing coming into focus. I pushed myself up with my hands, but it hurt almost to the point where it felt like my side was on fire. I felt a cool hand on my bare chest pushing me back down on the bed and wondered what had happened and how I'd come to be here. "Don't hurt yourself, love," I heard a feminine voice say.

I blinked, looking up. "Mum?"

"Yes." She brushed the hair away from my forehead, smiling down at me from her perch on the edge of my bed vaguely.

I swallowed hard and opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She lifted a glass of water to my lips, and I drank gratefully until I felt like my tongue was my own again. "Wh-what happened?" I asked, listening to my own voice. I sounded like a frog.

"You fainted. The Potter boy hit you until he knocked you out. He did have the grace to bring you up here, though."

"…Oh…what's…going on?"

"After the fight, Professor Dumbledore thought I should know what you've been up to. You've done some very bad things, Draco, but I think I might know why."

I winced as I sat up again, but this time she didn't argue, merely shifting my pillows so I was comfortable and in much less pain. "Tell me, please?" I asked politely.

She smiled and nodded, relaxing. "Well…first, tell me…why did you start that fight?"

I flushed, looking down at my hands as I picked at my fingernails. "It's…I can't stop thinking about him," I said hesitantly, not looking up. "And it…it makes me so angry that I…I can't stop, so…I…I wanted to hurt him. He takes up so much of my time! I only wanted to be rid of him plaguing my mind…haunting me…"

She nodded again, slowly. "How do you think of him?"

I blushed even more. "He…makes frequent appearances in my…dreams," I admitted.

"And I understand you were out for three days not too long ago?"

I noticed dimly she was starting to sound like some kind of interrogator as I slowly turned absolutely crimson. There were just some things you did _not _want to discuss with your mother. "Yes. Potter gave me some…special…chocolates."

She suddenly looked very stern, her eyes full of suspicion. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, have you been doing drugs?"

"What?! No!!" I cried, the color draining from my face. "There was a bloody aphrodisiac in the chocolates," I grumbled in my defense.

"And that's why you were laid up?"

I flushed again. "Well…yes…"

She paused. "Yes…I think I understand," she said after a moment, nodding sagely.

"Can you help?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"I don't think so. But I think I _can _explain all of this."

"Please do."

She seemed to consider for a moment. "Your father and I didn't think that this would happen, Draco, but…it seems that you're a veela."

"A veela? How?"

"Yes. There's a good amount of veela blood on your father's side of the family. He's never exhibited any signs of being a veela himself aside from his looks, though, so we thought he didn't have the veela gene. I guess we were wrong, because the only thing I can think of that explains all of this is that the veela gene was dormant in him and that he passed it on to you, which activated it."

"But what does that have to do with Potter?"

"Well…I think there's only one thing that explains that."

"What?" I asked, getting frustrated and impatient, hungry for answers.

"He's your mate," my mum replied simply.

"My mate?"

"Yes, Draco," she said, as if to a small child. "Don't you remember anything about the most famous magical creatures? Veela mate for life, and I'm afraid the fact that he's your mate will never change."

"Damn," I muttered under my breath. "Well…what do I need to know about being a veela?"

"Draco…did your father ever speak to you about the birds and the bees?"

"Yes, mum."

"Oh, good, then I don't have to do _all_ the dirty work. Being a male veela is slightly like being a woman, to be honest."

"Er…why?"

"You'll have a period, just like a woman."

"WHAT?!"

"No, no, love, not like that. You've already had one or two, I think. You see, male veela have a sexual peak once a month that gives them…an erection no matter the circumstances." I was glad to see that this wasn't awkward for just me as she blushed slightly. "Having sexual intercourse appears to be the only way to cure this." I nodded. That made sense, and explained why mine had gone away after I'd gotten my pity-shag out of Blaise. "Be careful, though, sweetheart. A male veela's sperm can impregnate anything that could possibly carry a child to term."

I shifted uncomfortably. "So…I'm a walking sex machine who absolutely has to have sex once a month or I'll be miserable?"

"…Basically." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Now. Have you felt anything odd lately?"

"Well, I was angry all the time over the summer as you know, and now I want chocolate all the time, and a while ago I tripped Potter and woke up with my ankle hurting, and—"

"That's enough," she said, holding up a hand signaling for me to stop. "I know what's going on now."

"You do?"

"Yes. He's emoting to you."

"…Huh?"

"You're feeling some of what he feels. He probably loves chocolate—that would explain the cravings. And pain and anger are both strong emotions, so it would be easy for even a recent veela to pick up on them."

"What do you mean, 'recent veela'?"

"Veela don't exhibit all of their characteristics until they come of age. And they don't usually have any of the feelings you've described until their mate is also of age. Which would be why you didn't feel anything until this summer."

"So you're saying I'm stuck with Potter. Forever."

"If you're fortunate enough to convince him to be with you, yes. Otherwise you'll pine for him until you die of heartbreak."

"That's great news, thanks, mum. I'm destined to be with a bloody Gryffindor that I hate." I winced at the words; it pained me to say them.

"Remember, Draco, that many times the people others pick on are often those they want the most."

I sighed, relaxing back into my pillows. "Well…fuck."

"Watch your language, young man."

I blushed. "Sorry, mum."

We sat in silence for a while, and then she leaned forward, brushing my hair from my face and kissing my forehead. "I have to go, love, but owl me if you have any more questions, yeah?" She stood, smiling. I took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Thanks, mum. I love you."

"Love you too, sweetie," she replied, squeezing my hand back before walking out the door. I sighed again and rubbed my eyes.

"Potter is my mate…Merlin save us." With that, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander off into dreams of the two of us together.

* * *

A/N: The chapters are getting longer! I don't know how that happened. I guess we'll see just how long they get as time progresses, huh? Review, it really does make my day!

**Anny Pervert Snape: **Your review was priceless. The first thing I did was laugh, then I considered leaving a reply in Spanish, and then I realized that might lead to a review war, and…that really made me happy, thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: How are we, ladies and gents? Good, I hope? Sorry this one took a little longer than usual. I kept wanting to write during class, and then I couldn't because I didn't know what was going on, since my outline is here on my computer and not in my notebook…oh well, I'm posting now, so yay!

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The next few days were miserable. After sitting along in my bed in the hospital wing for even a few hours, laid up with a cracked rib that Madam Pomfrey said was too close to my lung for her to be able to fix, I was bored with my bed, and I left—in pain—without her release. The first place I staggered down to was the dormitory, where I was forced by Blaise to explain to everyone what was going on. At first they'd been disgusted with the fact that I was destined to be with Potter, but they son relaxed and offered their support. 

Blaise was scared to death that I'd gotten him pregnant, but I assured him he wasn't; I _had _used a rubber, after all. That pacified him, and he agreed to let me shag him—as long as I used protection and _only _when I absolutely needed to. I offered him my eternal gratitude, of course.

Once I'd explained it all to them, they insisted that I rest, so I made myself as comfortable as possible on my bed and soon fell asleep again.

When I woke, I hit my books, catching up on work I'd missed in the half day or so that I'd been in hospital. With that done, I relaxed and asked if someone would bring me some books on veela from the library. I was surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle totter through the door, laden with dusty tomes for me to peruse. They dropped them all at the foot of my bed, and I pulled out a roll of parchments—to take notes.

The first few books I looked through were encyclopedias that didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. By the time I'd gotten through every encyclopedia, my nose itched from dust and my eyes were watering from trying to read some of the script. But I forged ahead, pausing only once to have some lunch.

I was laid up in my bed for a few days, so I used my time wisely. After I worked through the first pile of books, I sent someone back with them to the library to return them and fetch me some new ones. This exchange happened maybe three times before there were no more books. That's when I sent them to the Restricted Section.

As soon as I'd finished with all of those, I went about organizing the notes I'd taken. It ended up as something like this when I finished:

- Veela love unconditionally

- If I don't convince Potter to be with me, I'll look like shite

- I must treat Potter with (ergh) tender love and care

- I must be as faithful as possible until he's mine

- Always use protection

- Make _sure_ Blaise isn't pregnant

- Ask Dumbledore for my own room  
- Safety of self/others

- Privacy

- Etc.

- Pamper Potter

- Chocolates/candy

- Flowers

- Anonymous love letters (gross but necessary)

- Ask for Granger's help

- Keep working out

- Eat less poultry; birds are distant veela relatives

The list went on from there, including several sex tips. After all, some of those books had been more than a little bit risqué.

I sat back, satisfied, put my list away and went back to sleep.

After another day or two, I was able to get out of bed and move some on my own. If I walked too far, though, I got rather winded.

My first long journey was from my bedroom to the library. I was wheezing and flushed when I got there, but I'd made the trip. Satisfied with myself, I grabbed a book and sank into the nearest chair, resting and pretending to be interested in the book as I actually watched the people coming in and out. A few stopped to talk to me for a bit, but I wasn't really interested in them, either.

Then my target bustled in. There was no other word for it but bustled. Granger. I grinned like a wolf as I got to my feet, managing to follow her into the stacks in silence despite my pain. Slightly anxious, I reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

She jumped a bit, whirling on me, her wand pressing into my side. I gasped, whimpering softly. It was far too close to my cracked rib for comfort. I held up my hands, and watched as realization dawned on her. "Oh, Merlin! Sorry, sorry!" she cried, removing her wand and grimacing. Then she glared. "Even though I hate you, I'm sorry. Harry hurt you, and I'm sorry. Because you didn't fight back. Noblest thing I've seen you do so far."

I just looked at her for a while.

"Well? What do you want?" she asked.

I bit my lip. "I, er, need your help."

"My…help," she repeated, suspiciously.

"Mmhm. It's, um, well…I need your help with…Potter."

"With Harry."

"Uh-huh."

"…What about him?" I could tell she was curious, though still wary.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, alright. I'm a veela, and he's my mate, and I have to get him to fall in love with me or I'll end up pining my life away for him," I said in one breath, as quickly as possible.

She stared at me. "You're a veela."

"Yes."

"And Harry's your mate."

"Yes…"

She stared some more and then finally said, "I'll have to see the facts on that one."

"I have a lot of the books down in my dormitory. I only found out myself a few days ago." I produced a roll of parchment from my pocket and held it out to her. "These are the reasons I must be a veela, and some of my notes about veela in general."

She took it. "I'll…get back to you on this one, then."

"Alright. Ta then," I replied, going off and back to my dormitory to rest.

When I awoke, the room I'd campaigned for with Dumbledore by owl post was ready. A group of house elves helped me move my trunk in, but as soon as it was inside, I dismissed them, looking at my new—and bare—surroundings.

I opened my trunk and pulled out some unmatched socks—everyone has them. These would be the bases of my new furnishings. I scattered them strategically around the room and pulled out my wand, transfiguring them. When I was done, I had a set of rooms full of stylish (and comfortable) furniture. Black and white. Mostly black. Stark. Clean. Unique. Fitting.

I grinned to myself, deciding to write my mother to have her send over my books. As soon as I'd sent that note off with my owl, I set about cleaning out the rooms.

Once I'd finished cleaning, I relaxed, falling onto my new bed and staring up at the blackness of its canopy. Soon my eyes closed and I slept.

As soon as I awoke, my owl nibbled on my fingers, nodding its head at the package it had left for me at the foot of my bed. I gave the avian his deserved appreciation, and opened the box, placing my shrunken books on their new shelves. With them all placed, I restored them to their normal size, and had buried myself in one of them when someone pounded on my door. Grumbling, I stood and answered it. "Yes?"

"Alright, Malfoy, you're telling the truth," said Granger, pushing past me into my living room. She paused, surveying it. "Nicely done," she commented, before turning back to look at me as I shut my door.

"No, I'm not lying," I agreed.

"I'll help you. But not because I like you—because I'm tired of seeing Harry so upset and withdrawn. Ever since Sirius…" She shook her head, obviously not wanting to continue on that train of thought. "I know a veela does everything to make his or her mate as happy and comfortable as the mate can be. So you'll be good for him, and to him. But…"

"But?"

"If you hurt him, so help me, I'll string out your pathetic life as long as humanly possible so that you're as miserable as he is."

I swallowed. "Point taken."

"Good."

"So…" I said after a pause, "What do I do?"

"Harry needs help with Potions."

"Help? Isn't he taking an extra lessons?"

She gave me a withering glare. "He isn't _in _Remedial Potions, Malfoy. It's a cover. He's not _that _stupid."

"A cover for what?" I asked. She didn't answer.

"So. I'll tell him to meet you in the old Potions room, and you'll help him. There. See him there about an hour before dinner."

"Thanks, Gr…Hermione."

"You're welcome…Draco."

I grinned as she left. I had my chance at last.

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A/N: Yay! Another chapter down! Just…several more to go. Sigh. Oh well. Review, it makes me happy and brings more chapters! 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I found several places in this chapter where I could've stopped writing, but I was never satisfied with the length…so this one came out abnormally long. For me, anyway. I hope they stay that long…

Brownie points to whoever catches the not-so-obscure play on words that's also an opera reference.

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I spent a long time getting ready. I took a nice, long, hot shower, washing everything at least twice. Once I felt almost overly clean, I got out of the shower and took care of my hair and my face.

I went through lots of preparation, choosing clothing other than our uniform to meet Pott—_Harry_ in. _Harry. Harry. Not Potter, _I reminded myself. He wasn't my enemy. Not any more.

Finally it was time to meet him. I took my Potions things down to the old, unused Potions classroom and set them down on a table. He wasn't there yet.

At first I sat in a chair and watched the door. Then I paced. He was only a few minutes late, but every second was agony. I wanted to get this over with, wanted to win him over. I muttered to myself and sat down again, drumming my fingers on the tabletop.

_Finally _he came in, his hair all over the place, his shirt half tucked in, totally disheveled and somehow still amazingly…and surprisingly…sexy. I stood up, smiling. Harry looked put off. "Hello, Harry, nice to see you," I said. He stared. I grinned. "Nothing to fear."

"You called me Harry."

"Well, yes. I figured if we were going to work together like this, we ought to use our first names. You know, forget our differences and all that."

Now he gaped. "But we hate each other! You just broke my nose and I nearly puncture one of your lungs with your own rib!"

He shrugged. "Yes, but I figured we ought to forget all that. Start over, you know." I held out my hand. "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy."

He gave me a dubious look and reluctantly shook my hand. His grip was firm, his hand warm and his palm slightly sweaty. "Harry Potter," he replied warily.

"I'll be helping you out. It's nice to meet you, Harry." I smiled. "Please, sit down." I made sure he did, and I joined him. "Now, _Harry_, let's get to work."

He didn't look pleased, but we started to work, practicing potion making for today. Ingredient preparation, proper stirring, that sort of thing. Once we'd chopped, diced, and otherwise set up our ingredients, Harry took out his wand to light the fire under the cauldron. I smirked. "Your wand is quite…large, isn't it?" I commented, my voice hinting at the slightly suggestive. Potter picked up on it and blushed.

"The better to hex you with, Malf—Draco," he retorted, and I chuckled.

"Good one. Must remember that," I said as we dropped things into the cauldron. Harry let slip a single extra newt's eye, and I hit my forehead and reverted to pre-veela Draco. "Potter, you fucking twit!" I growled.

He glared, replying, "I thought you were supposed to be helping me, _Malfoy_."

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. "Sorry, Harry. Just…lost my temper." He said nothing. "I've been…edgy recently. Life's not as easy as it used to be."

"Yeah, well, my life's been no walk in the park either. Get used to it. It's not about sunshine and rainbows, Draco." His voice was bitter, his gaze hollow. I bit my lip. He needed help. I hoped I could give it to him.

I hesitated. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbing it absently.

He looked at me, and I could see the loneliness in his eyes. "No," he said, his voice soft and low, full of sadness as he shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it right now." He closed his eyes; I could tell he was fighting tears.

I rubbed his shoulder and he scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffing. He was crying. I hesitated for a moment before putting my arms around him. His body automatically reacted to mine, and he curled into me, burying his face in my chest and practically sobbing, his tears soaking my shirt. I just held him, making soft comfort noises.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away, sniffling and rubbing his eyes fiercely. "I'm s-sorry," he said, wiping tears from his cheeks.

"Don't be," I replied with a hint of a smile. "It's not your fault."

He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah…yeah, you're right. It's _not _my fault." He looked down at his hands on the table, repeating in a whisper, "It's not my fault."

I shifted in my seat and stood up. "Yes…I…I think our time's up," I said, the situation suddenly awkward and confining. I could feel the tenseness in the air, making it shrink, crawling down my throat and threatening to choke me. I needed some air.

He nodded. "I understand," he replied pathetically. I could hear in his voice that, on some level, he wanted me to stay.

"Would you rather I not go?" I asked, walking to the window and forcing it open, leaning my head against the wall and drinking in the fresh air like cheap wine.

"You'd stay?" he asked, sounding astounded. "With _me_?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Said I wanted to start over, didn't I?"

"Yes…you did, didn't you." It wasn't a question. I knew what he meant.

There was a long silence, and finally I asked, "If you weren't in Remedial Potions last year, what _were _you doing down here with Severus?"

He cocked his head to one side. "Severus?"

"He's my godfather."

"Oh. How'd that happen?"

"He and my father were good friends in school. Now stop avoiding the question." I turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest.

He shifted his weight. "I'm, well…I probably shouldn't tell you."

"I'll find out somehow, you know."

"Alright, alright," he conceded, relaxing only slightly. "Have you heard of occlumency?"

"Occlumency? Sounds like some kind of a monster, maybe with, uh, one eye."

He rolled his own eyes and I shrugged. "It's a kind of mental workout," he began to explain. "Barriers and such. See…Voldemort like to…dig around in my head. Mess with me. I…I ended up making…" he trailed off and looked away. "A mistake," he finished softly.

"A big one?" I asked in hushed tones. He nodded. "Well, that mistake obviously wasn't your fault then, Harry," I said, walking over towards him. "If the Dark Lord was fucking with your mind you obviously didn't _really _intend to do…whatever it was you did."

He looked up hopefully. "You really think so?"

"Yeah. I really do," I replied, locking eyes with him. I felt…dizzy. Drunk, almost. I'd never noticed how absolutely green his eyes were. My heart pumped a bit faster. Finally Harry flushed and looked away. He'd felt that spark too, then.

"You're not such a bad guy, Draco," said Harry, his cheeks tingeing a bit more.

I smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

"It's nothing," he replied. "Just honest." His cheeks were an even deeper shade of pink as I leaned against the desk he was sitting at. I rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment and then sighed, pulling away.

"This has been…nice," I said, my back to Harry.

"Yes…." There was a long pause, then, "Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Will you help me again tomorrow?"

I turned back to face him. "Tutor you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright. When?"

"Same time, same place?" he suggested.

"Sure." I smiled, and the two of us cleaned up the day's lesson, grinning like we shared some kind of secret. When we finished, I stifled a yawn. "I'm starved. Let's go get something to eat from the house elves in the kitchen, yeah?"

"Yeah," replied Harry with a sigh. "And then go to bed. I'm exhausted."

"Me too." We headed for the kitchens, and I asked, "How do you think Quidditch will go this year?"

"Better than before, certainly. We've got me and Ron, and Ginny as my backup, but we still need some good beaters now that Fred and George have graduated. You?"

"Lovely. Absolutely splendid." I made a mental note to find some decent Gryffindor beaters for him. Anything within my power to make him happy. "Here we are, then," I said, reaching out to tickle the pear. Into the kitchens we walked; the house elves soon brought us some dinner, and left us to each other.

We ate quietly for a moment, and then I grimaced. "You know, this is total crap."

Harry nodded, putting his fork down. "Like eating sawdust," he agreed.

I reached out and grabbed an apple from a nearby basket of fruit, tossing it to him. He caught it effortlessly as I selected myself an orange. "Let's hope breakfast is better, or we might starve."

Harry actually smirked, grabbing something else from the basket. "Wouldn't you rather have a banana?" he asked, holding one up, his fingers clutching it gently. I couldn't help but wonder how his hand would feel…I blushed.

"Put the fruit back."

He chuckled, putting it away. "I'm too big to fit in the basket, Draco," he remarked dryly.

I nearly choked on my orange in surprise. Finally I got over the shock of him admitting he was gay, and I started to laugh. I patted his shoulder. "I suppose we ought to go on our ways, then."

He sighed and nodded, getting up and brushing himself off.

"G'bye Harry," I said. "G'night."

He smiled. "G'night, Draco. See you in dreams."

I smiled back at him and walked out of the kitchens, down to the dormitory. When I slept, he was there—my Queen of the Night.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that. I think my favorite part of this would be the "I'm too big to fit in the basket" comment. Review, it makes my day! 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry about lateness. My beta went out of town for a week, leaving me with the unfortunate job of taking notes every day in Latin class—when I usually write—instead of every other day. And then our school put on Oklahoma! the musical, and I had a lead role, so I was really busy with that…forgive me.

* * *

Now that Harry and I had established meeting regularly, it seemed that the time was flying right on by. We had our lessons together, and it wasn't long until I judged him to be "proficient enough" to be my lab partner in regular class. Plus, it gave me an opportunity to correct him and, of course, to spend more time with him.

We got very close, Harry and I. Even to the point where he confessed to me about Sirius and I to him about being a veela. He seemed fascinated by the concept, always asking me questions about what it was like. He never seemed to pick up on the fact that he was experiencing—and causing—some of the effects that I felt.

I flirted with him constantly. Sometimes he's return the favor, other times he just smiled. But it was clear that we both enjoyed it all.

As we neared Christmas, my mother sent me a letter.

_Dear Draco,_

_The house is horribly empty. It's just me and the elves now…I can't wait to have you home again. Maybe you can brighten the place up a bit._

_I'll be waiting for you at King's Cross when the Hogwarts Express comes._

_Love always,_

_Mum_

I shook my head and wrote back to her the first chance I got. Much as I disliked having to upset her like this, I wanted—no, _needed_—to stay more that I wanted to protect her feelings.

_Dear mum,_

_Sorry to say this, but I'm going to stay here for the holidays. Harry stays, so I'll stay. I think I might be able to win him over if I do stay. Much as I love you, this is more important right now. I hope you understand._

_Love,_

_Draco_

I sent the letter off and relaxed. It was almost time to turn up the charm and get him once and for all.

Harry's friends all went home for Christmas, leaving him to me, and me only. On this first glorious day, it snowed. I met Harry down in the Great Hall for breakfast. Since House tables were pretty much abandoned over the holidays, and as there weren't enough people to fill them, we sat together.

"Morning, Harry," I said, sitting across the table from him.

"Morning, Draco," he replied, looking confused. "I thought you'd gone home."

I shook my head. "No. Mother's having the traditional Malfoy Christmas party. It'll be a drag without my father there, so I decided to stay here." I smiled, serving myself some breakfast. "Plus, I heard Weasley and Granger were leaving you all alone. We couldn't have that, now could we?"

"I guess not," he replied, taking a bite of his own meal. He smiled back at me. "I'm glad you're here."

"Oh, you're not the only one, trust me." I started in on my food, and we chatted lazily until we'd finished eating.

"Ahhhh. I'm full," said Harry finally. He relaxed, sighing softly.

"Mm. Me too," I agreed. We sat in companionable silence for a while until I got an idea, and grinned. "It snowed."

"Did it?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.

"Indeed. Didn't you look out your window this morning?" He shook his head, and there was a pause. He didn't seem to understand what I was getting at. "Do you want to go for a walk, maybe? See how pretty the grounds are."

He beamed. "Sure! I'll just pop on up to the dorm to get dressed for the weather. Meet you back here in…fifteen minutes?"

"Alright." I got up and went back to my rooms, putting on a jacket, a hat, and gloves before heading back up to the Great Hall, waiting just inside the doors for him. It took him a bit of time, but soon Harry joined me. We shared a conspiratorial grin and walked out into the cold winter morning, our eyes dazzled by the glare of sunlight on the fresh snow. Our breath misted in the air, and I smiled. "It's beautiful," I said.

Harry smiled, nodding. "Reminds me of your eyes," he replied softly. I blinked, surprised.

"What'd you say?"

"Reminds me of your eyes. Sort of…blue-gray, you know?" He shrugged, and we started down the steps into the snow. I was more than surprised that he'd just made a comment on my eyes; it gave me the hint that he thought about more than just who I was. He paid attention to the way I looked, apparently.

We walked quietly along for a while, listening to the sound of our shoes crunching through the snow, the wind whistling through the bare branches of the trees, and the steady, calm ripple of the lake. I got another idea, and grinned inwardly, bending over, ostensibly to tie my shoe. When I stood up again, I had a real grin on my face, and I hurled a snowball right into Harry's receding back. He froze, turning around, glared, and then laughed, throwing one right back at me. I hunched over trying to avoid it, but it caught me square in the side.

Still laughing, the two of us quickly constructed makeshift bunkers from snowdrifts, ducking down behind them and popping up just long enough to lob a snowball at one another, missing more often than hitting our target.

After a while we had to quit because we were laughing too hard, so we sank down into our snow bunkers, our cheeks and stomachs hurting from smiling and laughing, respectively. Soon I found myself shivering, despite my heavy coat. I sat up and brushed the greater part of the snow from my pants and my sleeves, walking over to Harry's snow-fort and holding out a hand to help him up.

He took my hand, his own feeling quite warm in my cold grasp. He smiled up at me as he stood; he didn't comment when I held on to his hand a bit longer than I should have. I didn't comment about how he blushed when I didn't let go.

We walked back towards the castle, commiserating about the cold. We decided we needed to warm up, so we headed down to the kitchens, where the house elves brought us some hot chocolate. The two of us took off our coats, sitting close together in front of the fireplace, holding our steaming mugs and letting the warmth of the chocolate and the fire seep into our skin, until our cheeks were pink and our mugs were empty. I sighed softly, closing my eyes.

When I opened them again, there was a blanket spread across both our laps, our empty mugs had been cleared away, and Harry's glasses were sitting on the hearth in front of the fire, which wasn't burning very well any more, left to smoldering in the grate rather than burning cheerfully; I realized that I must've fallen asleep.

I felt warmth next to me, and turned my head to see Harry's dark mop in a cascade over my shoulder, one of his hands resting gently near my knee on my thigh. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. I bit my lip, not wanting to disturb him, but I could feel my leg tingling, begging me to let it have some blood flow again. I shifted my weight, finally stretching my leg out. Harry burrowed into me, the arm that had been by my back wrapping around me, holding me. I smiled, carefully manipulating his slumbering frame so that his arm was still around me, but his head was in my lap. I put one hand on his back, the other running through his hair idly as I stared into the dying fire, enjoying our proximity and his warmth.

I felt almost hypnotized; I don't know how long we sat that way, but the next time I went to move, Harry yawned, his eyes fluttering. His first reaction was to cuddle closer, but then he opened his eyes, turned his head, and noticed me—regardless of how in or out of focus I was. He blushed a bright pink and pulled away, putting out a hand to look for his glasses. I held them out, and he took them, our fingers brushing. He blushed again. "S-sorry," he said.

I smiled, shaking my head. "Don't be."

He sat up, but he didn't move too far away from me, putting his glasses on. I watched him, cocking my head to one side slightly. He looked down, still flushed. I smiled, bringing my hand up to lift his chin so he was looking at me. "Like emeralds," I whispered, my other hand trailing gently beneath one of his eyes. We looked at one another for a moment, and I closed my eyes, leaning forward and pressing my lips gently to his. I felt what could almost be likened to an electric shock spark between us, and I knew it was the veela bond trying to take hold once and for all.

When I drew away, he blushed and looked down again. "Er," he said softly, closing his own eyes.

I looked away. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No! No, it's…it's…okay," he replied, looking back up at me. And, as if to prove it was okay, he kissed me back, again sending that little thrill down my spine. I put a hand on his neck, holding him there until the shock dissolved, ending in a flood of heat. I broke the kiss, and we just stared at each other for a moment. I knew he'd felt it, too. "Wh-what was that?" he asked, and I hesitated, searching for the best way to tell him.

"Do you remember how I told you I'm a veela?" I asked. He nodded. "Well, it's…it's to do with that. There's…you…well…" I scratched the back of my neck. "You're…you're my mate, Harry."

"Wait…I'm your _what_?"

"My mate. You know…the one I'm destined to, y'know, be with and all that. Veela have mates and it's…well…it's…a life commitment…"

"What does that mean?"

"It…" I bit my lip. How could I explain to Harry that if he refused to love me, I'd probably die? "Veela mate for life," I finally said. "Like some animals. It's actually a bit embarrassing. But if…if we're not…together, then I'll basically…I'll basically waste away. Until…until I'm dead."

"So…" He frowned slightly, looking at me. "Are you saying you fancy me?"

It was my turn to blush now. "Yes…I fancy you."

"Well good…because I fancy you, too," he replied with a smile, framing my face with his hands and pulling me close for a kiss. Again I felt the spark, and I knew that the veela bond had officially taken hold. When we broke the kiss for air, Harry blinked, squinting at me. "You're all…fuzzy. Squished."

"How d'you mean?"

"It's like…" He frowned again, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He opened them, and they widened. "Hey! I can see you better without them!" he exclaimed. I paused, thinking. That _did _make sense. I'd once read something about a mate who had limited use of one of his hands; once the bond had been consecrated, his hand worked better than it ever had before.

"Benefit of the bond," I finally said.

"Mm…I've no problems with it, then," he answered, smiling back at me, his emerald eyes now clearly visible. "I get a cute boyfriend _and _better eyesight."

We shared a grin, and I kissed him again. "I guess we ought to explore the…other…parts of the bond, eh? But there are…there are things you need to know about this. And about me."

"We've got plenty of time, Draco. Go ahead."

"Could we go somewhere more…private? I don't want to talk about my weaknesses in even a semi-public space."

"Alright. As long as there's a fireplace and a blanket. I don't know why, but I'm really cold."

"Sure." I stood, holding out my hand. His was cold in my grip, so I took his claim as true, and we walked together to my room, where I set a fire in the grate and gave Harry a blanket, sitting on the hearth facing him, leaving myself in shadow.

"What did you want to tell me?" asked Harry, wrapping his arms around his knees, drawing the blanket close, his skin flickering in the firelight.

"Mostly…about my family. But there are some, er," I blushed, "physical things you need to know about, too. About veela, I mean."

"Go on, then."

Since I'd only told Harry the bare minimum about veela—what they looked like, what their tempers were like…I figured I ought to tell him all of the sexual things now. All at once, and get it over with. "Male veela have what's basically a male version of the female's…period. Once a month I have what is, essentially, the most horrendous, painful erection you will ever hear about. And it only goes away when I…when I have someone else help me. I can't come on my own, I don't know why. But the side-effect is that I becoming increasingly attractive to people who wouldn't normally want me…Blaise let me shag him, actually."

I could see him trying not to laugh, and I blushed again. "I know, it sounds stupid, but that's the way it is. See, veela…sperm…want to continue the line. So they refuse to help me out until someone else—a potential carrier for a child—will get me off. And it may sound weird, but guys count as potential carriers. I read once that veela sperm is incredibly potent and, when mixed with other…reproductive, er, cells, a…fetus will result. Regardless of what happens. So I have to be extra careful. Apparently that's not such a big deal normally, but when I hit my, uh, period, it's very important to use protection."

"So you're saying you could get me pregnant."

"Well…yeah."

"Hm. Okay, well, is that all?" I nodded, and he leaned back slightly. "And what about your family?"

"You know my father's a Death Eater. And he'd like nothing more than to see you dead. But my mum is all for you being my mate, and right now she's the one in charge. But in case father shows up, you know to worry, because I guarantee he won't like to hear of me dating you."

"Alright. We'll just have to be careful, that's all. Now come here. I'm still cold." He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but grin back as I slid down to the floor, sitting behind him and putting my arms around him, letting him share in my warmth. Unknowingly, we activated the veela bond, and the two of us warmed one another, despite how cold Harry was.

It didn't take long for Harry to decide he liked my rooms better than the empty dorm; we moved some of his clothes down, and enjoyed each other's company until the sun set and we were exhausted, climbing into bed, where the bond drove us close, twisting us together, so our hands were pressed against bare skin, and our arms were wrapped around one another.

* * *

A/N: Again, sorry this took so long. This, that, and the other thing…I won't make any more excuses. Just…sorry. Hope you enjoyed! 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Lots of reasons for the time it took to get this chapter out, but it's kinda long (for me, anyway).

I've been having fun with this one. I felt scandalous because I wrote most of this chapter (okay, all of it) at school.

Enjoy this first bit of real H/D action.

* * *

We passed the days together, doing what we pleased. We agreed that we didn't want to explore anything sexual until we had to—better to get acquainted before having sex of any kind. Plus, Harry admitted that he was afraid of getting pregnant. I told him that we didn't have to rush; if he didn't want to, then we wouldn't. It was that simple. There were other ways to get off, anyhow.

Most of our time was consumed with getting to know one another. We chatted about family and friends, and he told me about his life with the Dursleys. I was horrified and promised him that I wouldn't allow him to stay all summer with those horrid people, blood relations or not.

Harry spent most of his time down in my rooms. It was nice, actually, because it helped us to further the veela bond. He spent nights with me as well, for there was nobody left in his own house to tease him about it. Or, at least, all the boys from our year in his house were gone.

I accumulated quite a large amount of Harry's things down in my rooms: toothbrush, clothes, school books, and countless other assorted items. I didn't mind, of course, because it made me feel like the place was actually useful.

Finally, it got around to Christmas itself. I woke a bit before Harry, which gave me chance to make sure his presents were securely nestled under the tiny tree he and I had selected from out in the forest. I saw two unfamiliar parcels wrapped in red paper next to the ones for him that I'd wrapped in green paper and smiled. For me, I supposed.

I heard stirring from behind me and turned to see Harry pushing the blankets back and rubbing his eyes. He blinked blearily at me before grabbing his glasses from the bedside table and rolling out of bed, padding over wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms. I liked it and was happy to return the favor of being so casually dressed.

We smiled at one another, and I sat down slowly, cross-legged. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Draco," he replied, sitting with me. "Have a present," he replied, pushing a box wrapped in shiny red paper toward me. The first thing I noticed was that its ribbon was a…Gryffindor tie?

I reached out and picked it up, tugging gently on the tie. "What's this?"

"Your tie."

"_My _tie?"

"Yes. I'm giving you one of mine. I took one of yours, too." He blushed. "Sorry…it smelled like you. I couldn't resist."

"Why are you giving me this?"

"Because," he began, blushing a shade deeper, "I…I want people to know."

"Know _what_?"

"That…we're…y'know…together." Now he was beet red.

I smiled and leaned over, hugging him. "Thanks, Harry." I removed the tie from the package and tore off the paper to reveal…a box of condoms. I arched a questioning eyebrow at Harry, who blushed again.

"Just…you know…in case."

I smirked. "Looking out for yourself there?"

"Maybe," he admitted, smiling. "I got you an actual present too, but I thought that this would be, er, practical."

I nodded. "Thanks," I said, reaching over and giving his hand a squeeze. Then I passed a flat box to him. "Since we're opening joke gifts…"

He peeled back the paper and lifted the lid of the box to find a t-shirt—the one mum had sent me however long ago.

"Private property?" he said, half-laughing.

"Actually, mum bought it. She told me to give it to my sweetie." I laughed with him, until our sides hurt and we were falling over into one another.

"It's great. I love it, and I'll wear it," he said finally, when he'd recovered.

"Great," I said, grinning. We both took a few deep breaths, and I pushed a smaller box toward him. "This is your real present. Happy Christmas."

He carefully removed the paper this time, and slowly opened the little black box. He took out the silver chain, and peered at the charm sparkling in the light. He touched it. "It's cold," he said, surprised.

I smiled. "It should be. It's a snowflake…I charmed it so it won't melt. Remember how you said the snow reminds you of my eyes? Now you can remember it all the time. Er...remember _me _all the time."

He looked at it, letting the snowflake—about the size of a fingernail—catch the sunlight. "It's beautiful. Thank you." He fastened the chain around his neck, touching a finger to the snowflake with a smile. Then he held out a gift to me. "Happy Christmas."

I opened it and found myself facing another black box. I opened that as well, and looked down at a gold chain. I lifted it out of the box, and examined the pendant—a lightning bolt of emeralds in a golden fixture. "Are these…?"

"Emeralds? Yeah."

"Harry, that's really expensive…you didn't need to spend so much mon—"

"Oh, shut up, Draco. I'm no pauper; I can afford it. I have my parents' fortune to spend and nothing to spend it on. How better to use my money?"

I looked at it for a long while. "Lightning bolt," I said softly. "Like your scar." I put it on and looked up at him. "Thanks, Harry."

We smiled at one another, and then hugged. "I'm glad you're here, Draco. And I'm glad I'm your mate."

"So'm I, Harry. So am I."

Even though Christmas was over, we still had time to enjoy one another's company. Unfortunately, because we were so absorbed with each other, I forgot entirely about my peak—which had the grace to come late in the day on December thirty-first.

Harry and I had slept through lunch the day before, languishing in each other, so we were awake all night and had breakfast together. We returned to my rooms and went back to bed, sleeping through lunch and dinner.

That's when it hit me; then the pain woke me after the sunset, and I let my hand drift down, caressing myself and moaning softly. Harry stirred beside me and I stilled. He snuggled against my bare side and I swallowed—hard. It hurt too much to leave it be, but I was deathly afraid to carry on with him so close. I lay there in hormonal agony until I could bear it no longer and I thrust my hand down into my pajama bottoms, taking a firm grip on my cock and stroking myself. I bit my lip until it bled, and finally couldn't hold in my own sexual noises. I moaned—loudly.

Harry yawned; I was so consumed, though, that I didn't notice. He stretched next to me, and I arched my back, bucking my hips into my hand, my toes curling beneath the sheets. He blushed, but I didn't realize he was awake until he edged away from me. I slowed my hand to a stop, both of us blushing. "D-don't let me interrupt," Harry stammered, sitting up and swinging his legs down onto the floor, his back facing me.

I slowly removed my hand from my pants. "Sorry," I muttered, ignoring the pain.

"N-no! You don't have to stop just because of me!" he cried, tugging gently on the snowflake hanging around his neck. It had already become one of his nervous habits.

I scooted across the bed, rubbing his shoulder with my clean hand. He turned his head slightly, looking at my hand before covering it with him own. We didn't say anything for a while, then I broke the silence, taking my hand away. "It wouldn't help anyway." There was a pause, then I said, "Do you remember what I said about my…my…peak?"

"Yes…you said it…oh. I thought…"

"Go on."

"It takes a…potential carrier," he blushed, "to make the…pain go away." He looked down, tugging on his necklace again.

"What did you think? That I was just…?" He nodded and bit his lip. I watched him, and touched his shoulder again with the tips of my fingers. "I'm sorry to move us this fast, but…I wouldn't want to cheat on you just because of my hormones."

He sighed and turned to look at me. "If I do this, what will you do for _me_?"

I considered. "Anything."

He arched an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Anything," I repeated.

"Alright…." He paused, looking around, obviously considering. I pushed the pain to the back of my mind. "We haven't been anywhere but breakfast and this bed for more than twenty-four hours. So…why don't you, er…." He blushed and paused again.

"Go on," I encouraged.

"Go get in the shower. I'll…I'll meet you there when I'm ready." He took a deep breath, tugging on his necklace. He was nervous, then. I leaned forward and kissed the spot where his neck joined his shoulder, stood, and went into the bathroom, starting the water for a shower. I listened to the hiss of the water hitting the tile floor, waited for it to warm up, and then removed my pajamas, stepping into the shower and just standing there for a moment, letting the heat relax my tense muscles. The steady drumming of the droplets on my back soothed me, and I was able to forget about my cock for a moment as I allowed my mind to get lost in the dampness of the shower's steam.

Soon the glass walls were fogged, and I reached for the soap, figuring I might as well make myself useful while I was in the shower. So I rubbed the bar between my hands and spread the lather across my arms and chest, waiting for Harry to join me.

This would be the first time we'd seen each other naked; although we'd slept together for the whole break, I'd only seen his chest, never his bare ass or his cock. It made my own stir, and I was aware once again of the pain it caused me. I scowled, soaping my chest, glaring down at my erection, which stood straight out from my body.

I ignored it as long as I could, managing to wash myself thoroughly before I couldn't help myself, and I gripped it with one soapy hand, closing my eyes and putting out my other hand, bracing myself against the shower wall. I threw my head back, the water drumming into me, my hand running up and down the length of my shaft.

I was so engrossed with myself that I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt another hand join mine; instead, I groaned and leaned back, right into Harry's chest. He wrapped his arm around my waist, caressing my cock as he let his head droop down onto my shoulder. I basically melted into him; the feeling of his hand on me was like cold fire—burning and freezing at the same time. It made my cheeks burn and my muscles freeze as I jerked my hips into his motions, feeling the sparks go off.

There was something special about this. It wasn't just any old hand job. No, it was so much more—I felt like I was dissolving into a wave of colors and emotions, melting like butter under Harry's heat. I knew it was something about the veela bond, but the blood wasn't flowing to my mind, so I didn't have time to contemplate it.

When I came, it was like an explosion. I spurted all over Harry's hand and the shower wall with a shout of his name, now falling even more heavily against him. He let the water rinse his hand clean and wrapped that arm around me, too, supporting me. I could feel his smile against my neck.

He took the soap in hand and began to re-wash me, ostensibly to get me "cleaned up" after that little incident, but I had a feeling he just wanted to keep his hands on me. Now that he'd touched my cock, he figured he had a right to touch everything else; that was fine by me. I let him wash me, and then I returned the favor. When we'd both finished getting clean, Harry hugged me again, smiling. "Happy New Year," he muttered.

I blinked and realized that he was right. It was midnight, and the clock was tolling it. "Happy New Year, Harry," I replied, and we shared a kiss under the pulse of the shower.

After we got out of the shower, we put on fresh pajamas and went down to the kitchen to snag some food. Harry somehow managed to get a hold of a bottle of champagne, and we went back to my room with me carrying a tray of snacks in each hand, and Harry carrying the champagne and two glasses. We toasted the New Year, each other, and our relationship—may it never fail. We ate our goodies over amusing New Year's Eve stories, and together we drank the whole bottle of champagne, both of us ending up a bit tipsy.

In the wee hours of the morning, just after my story about Uncle Darius and his Fantastic Falling Trousers, an owl tapped at my window. Harry opened it, and the owl came in carrying a letter that it dropped in my lap. Frowning slightly, I set down my champagne flute and read the letter.

_Dear Draco,_

_  
It has come to my attention that there was an escape from Azkaban the other evening. It seems that several of your father's "colleagues" aided those incarcerated to break free. Your father is among the five or so that have gone missing from the prison. Please keep in mind the fact that you are no longer the man of the house, even though he will most likely be staying in a secure location rather than the Manor. I miss you—take good care of yourself. And Harry too._

_Love,_

_Mum_

I felt like I couldn't breathe. I looked up at Harry, who was giving me a puzzled expression. I handed him the letter in silence, and when he was done he stared at me. "Father's back," I said softly, and he nodded.

"He wouldn't like this, would he? I mean us."

I shook my head. "He wouldn't like it at all. We'd better take it easy." He agreed with me, and after a bit more discussion of the topic, we drained the last of the champagne and agreed to go to bed.

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked that shower scene...we'll see you in the next chapter.

Review! It makes my day, I promise.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'd like to clarify a few things.

1.) Harry's eyesight merely _improved_ due to the veela bond. He cannot, by any stretch of the imagination, see 20/20 out of both eyes, or even one eye. He can just see better without his glasses than he could before.

2.) I know that in most cases witnesses would be questioned separately in separate rooms, but hey...artistic liscence, man.

Otherwise, enjoy!

* * *

Although we both would've preferred that Harry stay with me in my rooms, we realized that wouldn't be very smart. A lot of people looked down on homosexual relationship, and despite the fact that we wanted people to know we were a couple, we didn't want to bring ridicule on ourselves, so Harry moved back to Gryffindor Tower. He left a few sets of clothes in my closet "just in case," but otherwise, aside from his scent on my sheets, he was gone. 

The day he left I received an owl at breakfast.

_Mr. Malfoy:_

_It has come to our attention that your father, one Lucius Malfoy, has escaped from Azkaban Prison. If you do not mind, we would appreciate your coming down to the Ministry to answer a few questions. Your mother has received a similar summons; perhaps you could both come at once, and make our job easier._

_Sincerely,_

_Amelia Bones_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

I shrugged slightly and re-folded the letter, putting it aside. I would write to mother and see what she thought of this. We'd get our story straight before we faced the authorities.

The few more days of the holiday I spent with Harry; we wasted time taking walks, watching the squid, and sharing banter about upcoming Quidditch matches. Sometimes we'd just sit inside together and talk until there was nothing left to say.

Finally the holidays were over, and everyone else came back to Hogwarts, ending our peace.

The first day that everyone was back, I got up and wandered, half-asleep, to my closet, pulling out a uniform without thought. I took a shower, dried off, and got dressed, again without thought. I went down to breakfast, wondering why I was getting so many strange looks.

I sat down in my usual seat, noticing I was getting funny looks from my friends as well. "You look…well, Draco," said Blaise.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile, serving myself some breakfast.

"And so…happy," remarked Pansy. I just smiled at her around a mouthful of eggs.

They stared at me for a while, and then Blaise started to laugh. "Nice tie," he said, grinning. "What'd you do, lose a bet?" Now Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all laughing as well.

I looked down slowly and realized that I was wearing Harry's tie. _Bollocks,_ I thought, closing my hand around the knot of the tie. Then I realized they'd just handed me an excuse on a silver platter. I hadn't told them about Harry and me after all, so maybe I could keep them in the dark a little longer…I blushed. "Yeah…lost to Potter."

"What was the bet?"

I thought fast. "We played a bit of Quidditch and we had this bet that whoever didn't catch the snitch had to wear the other's tie first day back." My heart was in my throat; would they but it?

More laughter. "Guess Gryffindor's going to whoop us this year, then," said Blaise through a grin.

I sighed in relief. That was close.

We joked about it over breakfast and then went to class. At lunch I went by the owlery and wrote a letter to my mother, enclosing the one I'd received that morning.

_Dear mother,_

_I trust you received a similar summons. Might I ask what we are to do about the matter? It appears to be of the utmost importance that we make an appearance at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Please write me back as soon as you can._

_Love,_

_Draco_

I sealed the letter and sent it off and received her reply just as I was getting ready to abandon my studies in favor of dinner.

_Dear Draco,_

_I've sent a letter to the Headmaster, and he has excused you from classes tomorrow. He has requested a meeting with the two of u, and assures me that he will take care of the Dept. of M.L.E._

_Meet me outside the Great Hall after breakfast and we'll tackle this whole issue about your father._

_Love,_

_Mum_

I put the letter in a drawer of my desk and went to dinner, preoccupied with the prospect of clearing my name of suspicion—at least as far as my father's escape went.

The problem nagged at me through the rest of the day, tying knots in my stomach and preventing me from getting any sleep.

I tossed and turned for hours until I heard a floorboard creak; I sat bolt upright and aimed my wand (which I had grabbed quickly) in that direction, saying "Expell—"

It was Harry.

I lowered my wand and set it back down on the bedside table, wondering what he was doing here. "We could get caught," I hissed as he slid into bed next to me, but I put my arms around him nonetheless.

"I know," he said softly, running a hand through my hair fondly. "I could tell that you couldn't sleep."

I frowned. "How does _that _work?"

"I think it's something about the bond…I know that you can feel what I'm feeling, and manipulate it, even…I guess Christmas made that stronger and sort of…reversed it, to an extent, because when I went to bed I knew you were unhappy, and _I _couldn't sleep, either." He kissed my temple. "You kept me up, Draco," he said with a wink, letting the suggestiveness of the comment sink in.

"I could keep you up another way, if you'd rather," I replied with a grin, and Harry blushed, hiding his face in my shoulder, snuggling up against me. We found comfort in one another, and soon enough we were both asleep.

In the wee hours of the morning, Harry slipped back up to the dormitory with his invisibility cloak, (how he'd gotten down to the dungeons in the first place) leaving me to my thoughts once again. I knew that mother and myself were under heavy suspicion, and since I couldn't get back to sleep without my living teddy bear, I went to my desk and began to write out plans to draw away the eye of the Ministry from my family. The work was hard, tedious, and tiring; it seemed that in no time at all the sun had arisen and it was time for breakfast.

I showered and dressed—carefully this time—with my mind still brimming with ideas that I hadn't the time to write down. Thus, my breakfast was a hurried affair; I wanted to get these things down on paper before I forgot them, and since I'd been excused from classes that day I got my wish, finding just enough time to nip back to my quarters to scribble down my thoughts before returning to meet my mother, who as usual fussed over my appearance and asked quietly about Harry.

On the way up to Dumbledore's office I explained the situation with Harry and myself. She answered me by saying she was proud of me, and inside we went.

The Headmaster, as usual, was sitting behind his desk, his blue eyes twinkling at us. "Draco, Mrs. Malfoy—please, have a seat," he said, waving a hand at the chairs in front of his desk. As we sat, Amelia Bones made her appearance, sitting where she could survey the whole room easily.

"You both know why you are here," she said, and we nodded. "Good. Shall we begin?" She smiled at us and removed a dicto-quill and parchment. "Now. Mrs. Malfoy. When was the last time you saw your husband?"

"Nearly a year ago."

"What did he say to you when he left?"

I looked over at mother—she was wringing her hands in her lap and biting her lip. "He said he was going out, business as usual."

"Did you know what this…business…would be?"

"No, only that I shouldn't expect him back for some time, a few days perhaps."

Ms. Bones nodded. "Have you communicated with your husband since then?" Mother took a deep breath.

"He owled me once right after he was arrested to tell me to take care of Draco and our money."

"Was that the last you heard from him?"

I reached over and took one of her hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled faintly at me and shook her head. "I got another letter a few days ago."

"And what did it say?"

"That he was safe and that I shouldn't worry. And he said to not try and contact him."

"Any idea why?"

She looked coldly at her interrogator. "If you were on the run from the law, would you want people sending you owls?" she asked, her tone steely. I couldn't help but smirk a bit.

"Yes…well. If you could send us those messages, we would appreciate it," was her answer after a long pause.

"I'll do that, Ms. Bones."

"See that you do, Mrs. Malfoy," she replied, putting her things away. "We'll contact you if we have any further questions. For now what you gave us should satisfy."

"Thank you," mother replied, and again I gave her hand a squeeze. Amelia Bones left, and I was about to stand up and leave when Dumbledore cleared his throat.

I nearly moaned and looked over at him. "Yes?"

"We could take advantage of your unique connections, Draco," he said. I frowned. This wasn't going to be good. "Are you aware that your godfather Severus is in league with the light?"

I arched an eyebrow. Severus working for Dumbledore? But I'd always thought he was a Death Eater like father… "No, I can't say I knew that."

"He is a spy on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix, a group that has pledged to eradicate the threat of Voldemort." I cringed. Father had always called him the Dark Lord, and although he wanted me to follow in his footsteps I was secretly afraid of dark magic and especially the Dark Lord. But still the old sod continued. "I would be honored if you would join us. After all, Harry is an integral part." His eyes glittered knowingly at me.

I glared at him. _Damn you. Mentioning Harry was a cheap trick. Now I can't say no. _"Thank you, Headmaster. I am glad to accept your offer."

He smiled, still goddamn twinkling at me. "Wonderful. I will see to it that the case against you and your…dear mother is not put into the wrong hands. Also, I will have Severus fill you in. You may both go."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, standing and going to the door, opening it for my mother. She exited first, and I nodded once at Dumbledore before I followed her out. On the stairwell she brushed my hair out of my face.

"Order of the Phoenix…be careful, Draco. And watch out for poor Harry."

"I will, mother."

"And make sure you brush your teeth and hair."

"I always do."

"Study hard."

"Yes, mother."

"Eat right and exercise."

"Yees," I replied, starting to get embarrassed by her list of things.

"Don't forget to write."

"I promise."

"Oh, and don't forget to warn Harry when your peaks are coming."

"_Mum!_" I exclaimed, my cheeks burning.

"What? Oh…." She laughed and brushed my hair out of my face yet again. It liked to fall in front of my eyes. "Alright, alright. Take care."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

With that she made her way down the hall, and I stood still, watching her go, still amazed that she'd said that. When I couldn't see her any more I shook my head slowly. "Order of the Phoenix," I repeated to myself. It seemed that things were about to get more exciting.

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked. Also hope not to have such bad delays between chapters in the future, but as I am going on a college trip in two days that will last two weeks, I can make no promises. I will try to get some work done while I'm gone, though! 

Review...it makes me smile.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: There really shouldn't be many more chapters to this story…I can always try and come up with some fluff that really has no purpose (Harry showing up in Draco's room in the last chapter was unplanned fluff) but I still don't think there'll be much more to this.

So to sum up, most of what follows from here on out will be plot-intensive.

I apologize immensely for the insane delay; life's been crazy, and I lost inspiration, but my muse has returned! The story should get rolling again, and wrap itself up soon.

Warning: there will be some focus on het this chapter.

* * *

Being a part of the Order didn't change my life much. My godfather, on occasion, would take me aside after Potions lessons to tell me some little tidbit about an Order meeting, but thus far they'd asked nothing of me, and I'd heard no more from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—Dumbledore _had _managed to keep them away from me, thankfully.

Put quite simply, life was normal for a while aside from the occasional owl from my uncle Rodolphus asking me to come to some little "meeting" or other. Severus encouraged me to attend these, as it would give me a foot in the door with the Dark Lord. So, of course, I was careful not to lose the portkeys he sent me: an ancient, rusty key, a dried flower, a sweet of some sort, that sort of thing.

The meetings were rather simple affairs. They were always in remote locations like forests or fields way out of anyone's way, and the people that attended were all either escaped Death Eaters or those who were suspected to be Death Eaters. I wasn't the only young person there, however. More often than not, Crabbe and Goyle would be there too, along with several other sixth and seventh year Slytherins—usually sons and daughters of Death Eaters, all of who were being groomed to join in the festivities, so to speak.

In general, life wasn't too strenuous for me. The Death Eater meetings were worth my mother's peace of mind, so I went and smiled and nodded when people spoke, being careful to take mental notes on what happened—that way Severus and I could collaborate on the stories he would pass on to the Order.

Life went on as usual; I saw Harry sometimes during the night. Seldom did we risk him being out the whole time, though, so his stays in my quarters were always limited to a few hours—better safe than sorry, he would say to me.

Time passed fairly quickly, and before long Harry and I were exchanging banter about our Quidditch teams, taking bets on who would win in the upcoming Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match. Usually it was the first match of the season, but at the time it was scheduled, I was on my peak and thus unable to play. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin was switched with Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. Harry often teased me about whether or not I'd "conveniently" peak just in time to stave off another "crushing victory by Gryffindor." I never took that kindly, of course, but I never said anything, either.

On occasion Harry and I would make clandestine journeys out to the pitch in the evening and practice against one another, always keeping up a running discourse of raillery, just for the appearance of it. Nonetheless, people started speculating on whether I was becoming soft, so during the day I would insult Harry as best I could manage without laughing while at night I would apologize to him and make a fuss over any wounds (bruises, cuts, anything) my act had caused him. I had a reputation to maintain, after all; at least Harry understood that. He always forgave me.

After a particularly mean remark on my part about Harry's parents the night before the big Quidditch match, Harry let himself into my rooms. I sat up in my bed and peered at him through the darkness. He stared back at me, looking like a ghost. "I catch the snitch, you quit with the snide remarks. Damn your pride, Draco. Just stop it once and for all and be nice."

He frowned, running a hand through my hair. What could I ask for in return? I knew what I'd said was below the belt, and that I should have to pay for it somehow, but…Harry was giving me a chance not to have to repent. I narrowed my eyes at him. "And if I catch the snitch," I began, my voice sounding colder than I'd intended, "you tell your friends."

"Tell them what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't play dumb with me, Harry. Admit to your friends that you're with me. My friends know—yours don't." I specifically didn't mention the fact that Hermione had helped me out and that she, of course, knew.

We looked at one another for a while, and then Harry stood up straighter. "Alright. Deal?"

"Deal." I got out of bed and walked over, holding out my hand. He reached out and we shook on it. Then I smiled at him and kissed him briefly. "Get some rest, Potter. You'll need it."

He arched an eyebrow at me. "Not as much as you will." And with that he walked past me, back out of my rooms and up towards Gryffindor Tower. I smiled and climbed back into my bed.

The next morning I got up, showered, and put on my Quidditch robes. I went down to breakfast and ate lightly so that I wouldn't be suffering from stomach cramps when I was chasing after the snitch. Once I'd finished, my friends wished me luck, and I looked across the Great Hall at Harry, who just smiled slowly. I could see him wondering what an injury to my pride it would be to have to give up the harsh words I still said to him during the day.

I ignored the smile and went to the changing rooms, where the team got what was probably supposed to be a rousing speech. Needless to say, it wasn't much of a speech. Nonetheless, we all left the changing rooms determined to beat Gryffindor.

Madam Hooch bid us mount our brooms, and we all did so, rising up into the air above the ground. Harry and I faced one another. I smirked at him. "Ready to lose that bet, Potter?" I asked.

He stared back at me. "You wish," he replied, just as the match began. The two of us spent a moment examining the pitch for signs of the snitch. I saw it before Harry, and the chase began, me following the snitch, Harry following me. He was right on my tail as I maneuvered about the pitch, eyes trained on the speck of gold that danced just ahead of me, seeming to mock me.

Harry took the lead soon enough, and for a while I followed him, letting him do the work of keeping an eye on the snitch. He realized what I was doing, though, and took a detour, leading me away from our target. I wasn't paying the attention I ought to be, and narrowly missed a bludger knocked in my direction. Harry got away, and I was disoriented.

I had to pause and take stock of my surroundings. There was Harry, zipping around…the snitch was dreadfully close to him. I clenched my jaw and dove down after him, knuckles white as I gripped the handle of my broom. I didn't want to lose the bet we had going, and would have done almost anything to win. As I went after the snitch, thinking surely I could get to it before Harry, he rose up a bit on his broom, stretching his arm out. His fingers could almost close around it, but not quite; he edged forward on his broom, pulling one leg up and setting his foot down on the polished wood. He crouched near the very tip of his broomstick and stretched his arm out just a little bit further…and had to pull up sharp to avoid a bludger. The sudden stop destroyed his balance and Harry fell off his broom, closing his hand into a fist as he plunged through the air. I yelped and started to go into a dive to try and catch him before he fell to the ground but then I realized that really would indicate I'd gone soft. I couldn't help him, or else our cover would be blown.

So I watched in horror as he hit the grass with a sickening crunch. I brought my broom back down towards the ground, landing as people encircled Harry's still frame on the ground. He was holding the snitch.

I waited until night fell to go visit Harry in the hospital wing. He was asleep and I didn't even know what all was wrong with him, but I stood by his bedside and watched him in his slumber. His chest rose and fell evenly, but the sound of his breathing was raspy and labored. I touched his hand gently with one of my own, bent and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and left him with no sign I'd been there except for a single red rose on his bedside table.

The next morning when the Slytherins chatted about Harry and how he always dramatized every catch of the snitch, I told them to shut up. I'd lost the bet—I had to be true to my promise and play nice.

As it turned out, Harry had received a concussion and cracked two of his ribs, one of which had nearly punctured his lung. He'd also dislocated his shoulder and fractured his collarbone; the bone would knit easily enough, he told me one night, but it would leave an ugly spar where it had been broken. I told him I didn't care; he would always be gorgeous in my eyes.

Unfortunately for me, two days after Slytherin's loss to Gryffindor, I hit my peak. Harry was still in the hospital wing and the pain of my erection was nearly unbearable—I'd not had one this bad since Harry had slipped me that aphrodisiac. With no Harry to ease my pain, the only solution I could think of would be to seek gratification from the nearest, most convenient person present.

I opened the door of my rooms and grabbed the first person that came by, pulling them inside. As luck would have it, it was Pansy. She looked at me curiously; "Fucking peak," I growled. She smirked, her hand drifting down to my groin. She gave it a squeeze and I moaned. She giggled softly.

Pansy had always wanted me, I knew. Her gaze was appreciative as she kicked my door closed, a wicked smile on her face as she backed me into my bedroom, her hand still on my groin, knowing she had me fully in her control. I was helpless, blinded by my search for the gratification I needed to end my misery, so I complied with everything, letting her drag me to the bedroom, not complaining when she popped the buttons off of the nice shirt I was wearing to get a glimpse of the flesh beneath.

Her fingers raked up and down my chest and before I knew what was happening she'd undressed me and shoved me down onto my bed. She stepped away and removed her own clothes, crawling up onto the bed. "I'm going to have fun with this," she whispered in my ear, her hands roaming up my thighs. She reached over to my nightstand and grabbed a condom from the box Harry had given me, slipping it over my cock. I arched my back, pushing my hips into her hands; she giggled darkly. For Pansy, this was some kind of a dream come true.

She closed her lips around my latex-sheathed cock, enjoying its length. She was careful not to let me come, though—when my moans began to escalate she shook her head. "Tsk tsk," she said, drawing away, and I whimpered at the loss of her hot, moist mouth.

Only when she was sure I wasn't going to lose it did she move again, inching up my legs and straddling my thighs. I could see that she wanted me to touch her, but I didn't know what would please her; I rested my hands on her hips and tentatively fondled one of her breasts as she positioned herself over my cock. My arms went slack, however, when she lowered herself on top of me. The look on her face was one of pure ecstasy as she sank down my length until there was no more of me to take. She let her head fall backwards a bit, her lips parted slightly; she pushed herself back up slowly, one hand splayed across my chest, the other gripping my thigh. Up and down, up and down she moved. When I thought I would lose control and burst inside of her, she would stop. Clearly she wanted us to climax together, though I knew there was no way in hell that would happen. I needed this too much.

Finally she gave up on holding off my orgasm, and my toes curled as I spilled my seed. She wasn't done with me, though, and continued to ride my cock until she'd brought upon herself those sweet waves of ecstasy. Finally she collapsed atop my chest, and I moved just enough to slip out of her. I didn't want this, though—I didn't want to share the post-coital bliss that she was clearly experiencing.

She solved my problem, however, by falling asleep. I gently rolled her off of me and went into the shower, cleaning myself up. I'd gotten what I needed from her, and that was enough for me.

That night when I went to visit Harry, I found that he was no longer in the hospital. Afraid to go to Gryffindor Tower, I returned to my rooms. What I found there haunted me.

_Malfoy,_

_Heard about what you did with the girl. You promised to be faithful, and weren't. I can't live with a liar. Consider us over._

Potter 

The coldness of the last names, the brevity of the sentences, and the fact that the necklace I'd given him sat atop the note on my bed with my Slytherin tie was more than I could bear. I realized Harry hadn't written the first part himself (his injuries wouldn't allow for that) but the signature was his.

It was done. No more Harry. And, as all wizards know, a veela without a mate will pine to death. He'd just given me a death sentence in only a few words.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Turning out chapters pretty quickly now. Hurrah!

Enjoy.

* * *

As I stood by one of my windows and looked over Harry's note for what must have been the thousandth time, I let my forehead hit the cold glass in front of me. My eyes drifted shut, but I still saw the words in that alien print searing behind my eyelids. When I opened them, I found no solace—I was holding the note. With a groan of frustration, I crumpled the bit of parchment with one hand and threw it towards the opposite wall, but it fell to the ground only a few feet away. I leaned against the wall and stared at the wad on the floor, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous.

How could I have been so stupid? Couldn't stop her? Fuck, if I'd wanted to, I could have stopped her. But I'd let her walk all over me. I was angry with myself, but I was even angrier at Pansy for having taken advantage of the situation. I had been desperate, and she had decided to take the opportunity to get what she'd always wanted and thought she'd never have: me.

But for all of that, I felt an equal amount of guilt and self-hatred. It was my fault for not pushing her away, my fault for letting it happen in the first place. I should have known better than to be so incredibly _stupid_.

I ran a hand through my hair with a sigh, my eyes still trained on the scrap of parchment. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach and a lump harden in my throat. I walked over and picked up the note, smoothing it out and looking at its message once again. This time, though, my gaze went straight to the signature: Potter. It was amazing how many different emotions that one word could incite in my fairly inexperienced heart. Anger, guilt, admiration, wonder, pain…pain. I was starting to get a headache.

I walked over to my desk and propped the note up in a prominent position, where I would see it often. _Just what I need…remind myself that I fucked up. Literally._ Frowning slightly, I stared at it a moment longer before turning away, surveying the room. It felt so…empty.

I shook my head and decided I needed to get out of there, to clear my mind. I grabbed my cold weather gear, threw my cloak about my shoulders, and went outside to think.

The snow blanketing the ground dazzled my eyes, and sent my mind reeling back to Harry, and how snow reminded him of those very same eyes. I bent and scooped some up, slowly making a fist, watching the snow fall from my gloved hand. I looked up at the sky, finding it a dull shade of gray, clouds threatening. I stood there amid the snow, merely letting the cold seep in. Maybe it would numb my heart…and the ache in my skull.

Finally, when I couldn't really feel my feet or fingers any more, I headed back inside, straight to my room. I peeled off my layers and sank down to the floor in front of the fireplace, leaning back against the sofa and staring into the fire, seeing Pansy's face contorted in ecstasy in the flames, mocking me. I growled and stood up in a rush, turning away, only to see Harry's note sitting there on my desk. I cursed and kicked the table next to the sofa, breaking one of the legs off, sending its contents toppling onto the floor…including the things Harry had returned to me.

The light spilled through the window and hit the floor, washing my tie with white sunlight and catching on the preserved snowflake, making it twinkle and glitter. Everywhere I turned, there was some reminder of him. He had squeezed into my brain and imprinted himself on every niche. I couldn't rid myself of Harry Potter, even if he could rid himself of me.

The headache wouldn't go away. I had only the slightest appetite; everything I tried to eat had no flavor and made me want to retch. The heartache was so bad it was almost a physical pain. I missed him. I needed him.

Every time we spoke, which was seldom, it was strained and distant. True to my word, I said nary a harsh word about him, though often times I wanted to; to yell at him, perhaps, would have made me feel even a little bit better. But I kept my words to myself, thinking them too juvenile, too simple. I wanted to beg him to take me back, and I could see the deep hurt in those emerald eyes, but I didn't honestly think he would do so. He was too smart to get into this again, though once I might have thought otherwise.

On top of the endless, pounding headache, I felt a sense of doom, for lack of a better word. My rooms felt too constricting, the outdoors too vast. Everywhere I went, I found some problem, when the real problem was that Harry wasn't there. In fact, the only time I could even remotely focus was when I had class with him. My headache would dull enough to be semi-negligible, and my stomach would even rumble with hunger. Those moments were short-lived, though. As soon as I left class, my afflictions would return, and once again, I would be miserable.

I took to having house elves bring my meals to my rooms; I couldn't stand sitting at the same table as Pansy. Whenever she saw me, her face split into a large, satisfied smirk. I wanted to slap it off. That temptation was enough that it would have been dangerous to stay with her in the Great Hall. It was bad enough during classes, but that I couldn't help—as long as I focused on my work, I could ignore her. But sitting at breakfast looking across my morning pumpkin juice at her? That I couldn't ignore. It was easier to separate myself.

I spent a good amount of time trying to think of things nasty enough to pay Pansy back, but every time I went to write something down, I saw the note sitting there on my desk, and the guilt triumphed. I would quit what I was doing and find something to distract myself with. As a result, I spent quite a bit of time out on the grounds, flying, or merely laying about, watching the day pass by.

Pass by. I was watching my life pass me by. It was as if I'd stopped walking, and everyone else was running. The distance between me and everyone else just…grew. And I wasn't even trying to make it up.

It had been two weeks. Fourteen long days, and seven fucking endless hours. My fifteenth breakfast without Harry. The food the house elves had brought sat beside the sofa, untouched. I sat next to it and stared at it, but felt no desire whatsoever to eat it. I watched a fly land atop the eggs, and let my hand hover lazily over them. My mouth was set in a grim line, as my hand descended and swatted the hapless insect. I lifted my hand and peeled the grime away, flicking it towards the fireplace.

With a flick of my wrist, I had taken a life. A small one, albeit, but a life. What point did life have now? What point was there in living if I couldn't live with him? Was this my punishment for wronging my mate? Did I have to suffer so because I had made one mistake?

"People make mistakes," I whispered. "To err…to err is human." I buried my face in my hands, my head pounding. Pounding? No. Splitting.

I groaned and stretched out across the couch. It hurt enough to open my eyes, but to close them…to close them left me staring at him, left me gazing upon an image of Harry burned into my brain. He lay there peacefully, shirtless, his head resting on my pillow, his hair hanging in his face, looking back at me. It was a memory from Christmas break, when he spent every night in my rooms. I couldn't get him out of my head.

I opened my eyes and growled at the ceiling. I'd damned myself to this hell the moment I laid hands on Pansy. It was all my fault, and there was no way out. Not unless I took it on myself to go back to Harry and beg his forgiveness. But would he forgive me? Would he let it go with a simple "I'm sorry"? Maybe it would be best to find the Granger girl and ask her about it.

I sat up, and it felt like my head would explode. The idea of asking Granger went out the window. If I couldn't so much as stand without feeling like I would fall over, how would I make it to Gryffindor Tower? I let out a long sigh and squeezed my eyes shut. Yesterday, at least, I could go to class. But today…oh, today. The headache was that much worse. I gave a pathetic whimper and sank back down onto the sofa. So this was what it was like, coming to the end. Nothing but fear, pain, and darkness. The only spot of light was that trove of memories in my mind, but digging into it made the heartache so much worse…it felt like a heart attack.

I closed and rubbed my eyes and felt the tears welling up again. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted the pain to go away, I wanted it all to end…it would be so much easier to just give up than to keep on living.

I could almost hear his voice. I could almost hear him calling my name. "Draco…" The words were distant; I was imagining things. "Draco," he repeated.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I moaned, banging my hands against my forehead, trying to drive out the voices.

"Draco."

"God damn it, go the fuck away!" I shouted, and the volume of my own voice took me by surprise, sending waves of pain through my brain that made the rest of me ache in sympathy.

"Okay," came the response. A response?

I opened my eyes and pushed myself up with caution. Afraid of what I might see—more importantly, what I might _not _see—I looked over the back of the couch to see…

"H-harry?" I whispered, his name coming out tense and too highly pitched. He just stood there, but in his hand was the tie and necklace. His other arm was still in a sling—presumably to take the strain off of his fractured collarbone. "I…"

He shook his head. "Don't, Malfoy." His voice was soft and sweet and musical and…oh, how my ears had longed for it. The sound of my name—even my last name—rolling off of his tongue sent me swooning, and I had to grip the back of the sofa to keep from falling. I could already feel my headache dulling.

"Then why—"

He shook his head again, cutting me off. His knuckles were white as he held my gifts in his hand. "You did a fucking idiotic thing, Malfoy." I went to speak and he held up his hand. "You don't say anything until I let you." I swallowed and nodded, and he walked over to the fireplace, his back to me. "When I got into this…this…whatever it is with you, I expected to be yours, and only yours. And to me, that meant you'd abide by the same rules. Me, and nobody else." He turned around and looked right into my eyes. My heart fluttered and the pounding in my head relaxed a bit more. "But you didn't." He looked pained, and I wanted nothing more than to get up and take him in my arms, to beg his forgiveness—anything to have him back. But he'd told me not to speak, so I didn't.

"I broke this off because you lied to me, Draco." My stomach flipped. He'd called me Draco. "I can't stand liars. Just after you'd promised to quit putting me down, you put me down in the worst possible way. You put me aside." His eyes narrowed. "I don't care if you 'couldn't' stop her, because I know you could have. I don't care that it was a girl. I don't care that it was Pansy fucking Parkinson. I care that it _wasn't_ me." He walked away from the fireplace, towards me. "My head has been pounding for a week. I can't imagine what it must feel like for you. Every time I look at you…" The pain in his face gave way to longing. "Every time I look at you, I just want to…to tell you it was all a lie, that I can't live without you…but I know that I can. It's you, Draco…you that can't live without me." He held up his hand, the snowflake glittering against one of the silver stripes on the tie. "Everlasting. That's the kind of faithfulness I want from you, Draco. Never melting. When you commit to me, you _commit_ to me—you got it? No fooling around, no matter what." Now he was almost shouting. "If I can't help you get over your goddamn erection, deal with it yourself. I don't care how tempting it is to get someone else to help. You're _mine_, Malfoy. Got that?" He pushed his hair aside, revealing his scar, and bent close to me. "You belong to Harry fucking Potter, the Boy Who fucking Lived!" His eyes were flashing with something close to anger now. I was almost afraid—but this was Harry. My Harry. To whom I belonged. Completely.

He pulled himself up to his full height, and looked down at me. "Got that?" he said again, his voice back to its normal volume. I said nothing, obeying what he'd asked, until he spoke again. "Well?"

"I…I've got it." I took a deep breath and stood up. I put out a hand to touch him, realized it was shaking, and clenched it into a fist, letting it drop to my side. I sank down to the floor, kneeling at his feet, my head hanging. "I'm yours. Only yours."

"Forever?" he asked.

"Forever," I repeated. I saw the tie fall onto the floor by his foot, and picked it up, standing. "Yours, Harry," I whispered, looking into his eyes.

"Good. Then help me put this back on?" he asked, holding out the necklace. I smiled and took it from him, our fingers brushing together; I almost thought I saw a spark. He turned away, and I clasped the chain around his neck, careful to avoid the sling. He turned back and looked into my eyes again, and the last of my headache went away. I've no idea how long we stood like that, but I finally wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close; his arm slipped around me, and I felt tears pricking my eyes again.

I fought the tears back, squeezing Harry tightly. He groaned. "Draco—my collarbone."

I winced and pulled away. "Sorry, sorry!"

"It's…it's ok." He sighed and cupped my cheek in his free hand. "Merlin, I've missed you."

I chuckled. "I guarantee I missed you more, love." I blinked. Had I just said what I thought I'd said?

"Did you…?" asked Harry, and I bit my lip. I guess I had.

I hesitated before answering. Love? Did I really mean that? Or was I just getting carried away by the moment?

Pining after someone for two weeks, being unable to think of anything other than him, wearing his gift day in, day out without ever taking it off…wasn't that love? Wasn't seeing his face behind my eyelids love? Didn't seeing him in every dream constitute love?

_Oh, Merlin. I'm in love with bloody Harry Potter._

I nodded. "I…I love you, Harry."

His cheeks colored slightly. "I…I love you, too, Draco." He blushed more and looked away. I caught his chin and lifted it so he was looking at me again. Then I closed my eyes, pressed my lips against his, and we shared what could be the sweetest kiss of my entire life.

I had my mate back in my arms once more; I didn't intend to let him go ever again.


End file.
